UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF  CAPT.  AND  MRS. 
PAUL  MCBRIDE  PERIGORD 


UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFOKWJ 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
LIBRARY 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 


A    MAN'S    HELPERS 


BY 


WILFRED  T.  GRENFELL,  M.D.  (OXON.) 

Superintendent  Labrador  Medical  Mission 


THE    PILGRIM    PRESS 

BOSTON          NEW  YORK          CHICAGO 


136476 


Copyright,  1910 
BY  LUTHER  H.  CART 


THE  .  PLIMPTON  •  PRESS 

[  W  .  D  .  o] 
WORWOOD  •  MASS  •  i:  .  s  •  A 


GO  |3 

Gf    O  (o-VY\ 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

WHAT  THE  BIBLE  MEANS  TO  ME  .     .        9 

II 

WHAT  PRAYER  MEANS  TO  ME  ...      35 

III 

WHAT  CHRISTIAN  FELLOWSHIP  MEANS 

TO  ME  61 


I 

WHAT  THE  BIBLE   MEANS  TO   ME 


WHAT    THE    BIBLE    MEANS    TO 
ME 


JT  OR  the  past  twenty-five  years  my 
life  has  been  as  much  that  of  a  sailor 
as  a  surgeon.  While  carrying  on  medi- 
cal missionary  work  with  a  small  float- 
ing hospital  vessel,  I  have  had  to  be  in 
command  largely  because  it  saved  me 
expense.  The  responsibility  for  the 
safety  of  the  ship  has  rested  upon  my- 
self, and  the  navigation  has  often  been 
an  anxious  task.  My  apprenticeship  in 
this  work  was  served  in  the  Irish 
Channel,  where  every  summer  during 
our  long  vacation  we  hired  a  sloop  for 
cruising.  I  was  younger  then,  and 
responsibility  rested  lightly  on  my 
shoulders.  The  realization  of  it  was 
not  perceptibly  increased  by  the  fact 
that  my  amateur  crew,  if  possible,  knew 
less  of  the  art  than  I  did  myself.  We 
were  on  pleasure  bent;  charts  were 
good;  ports  were  not  very  far  apart. 
[9] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

THE  SAILOR  AND  His  CHART 

But  even  on  these  fair  weather 
cruises  I  can  call  to  mind  occasions  on 
which  the  necessity  for  knowing  our 
exact  position  accurately  loomed  up 
very  large,  where  it  became  a  matter 
of  real  importance  to  know  at  once 
which  way  to  head  our  little  craft  to 
reach  a  "haven  where  we  would  be." 

At  these  times  more  than  intuitive 
knowledge  was  called  for,  and  in  haste 
we  had  to  haul  out  our  neglected  chart 
and  puzzle  over  its  reliable  guide  marks, 
to  take  down  from  its  forgotten  place 
the  book  of  coast  directions  and  try  to 
gain  hurriedly  some  help  from  its  wise 
counsels.  The  compass  now  became  a 
trusty  friend,  and  log  line  and  lead  line 
were  unearthed  from  their  hiding  places, 
and  called  on  to  assist  us  now  that  we 
were  in  difficulties.  All  the  help  we 
needed  was  to  be  had  from  these  if  we 
did  our  share  in  seeking  it,  and  on  the 
occasions  I  refer  to  we  recognized  that 
we  needed  it  badly  enough.  Consulted 
however  suddenly,  they  seemed  reluc- 
tant to  give  their  best  clearly  to  us,  and 
[10] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

we  found  ourselves  sincerely  sorry  we 
had  not  familiarized  ourselves  with 
them  better  while  all  went  well  with  us. 

Of  late  years,  however,  I  have  been 
cruising  in  the  wider  waters  of  the  North 
Atlantic.  Here  the  coast  line  is  badly 
charted  and  the  maps  practically  use- 
less, though  they  are  numerous  and 
varied.  It  is  almost  devoid  of  any 
guiding  lights,  and  there  is  not  a  single 
artificially  improved  anchorage.  The 
book  of  directions  is  as  out  of  date  as 
the  Apocrypha.  Fogs  frequent  the 
coast  all  the  year  round,  and  as  if  that 
were  not  enough,  a  never-ending  stream 
of  Arctic  ice,  now  in  huge  mountains  and 
now  in  dangerous  transparent  level 
sheets,  besets  the  whole  of  the  seaboard. 
One  might  well  be  forgiven  for  saying  — 
"Oh,  there  navigation  as  a  science  is 
impossible,  safety  is  the  sport  of  chance, 
success  is  as  likely  to  come  to  the  in- 
different as  to  the  worker." 

Everyone  —  even  the  youngest  —  has 
to  recognize  at  times  that  in  these 
waters  he  has  reached  the  limits  of  his 
own  resources,  and  is  face  to  face  with 
the  fact  that  he  has  no  clew  to  his 
[11] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

position  or  to  the  direction  he  ought 
to  go. 

How  many  times  have  I  walked  to 
and  fro  to  the  small  chart-room  trying 
in  vain  to  make  the  miserably  inefficient 
chart  tally  with  the  contour  of  the 
frowning  cliffs  that  faced  me,  all  to  no 
purpose.  Sorrowfully  I  have  wound  up 
by  confessing  that  I  was  literally  and 
hopelessly  at  sea. 

What  at  such  times  would  not  any  wise 
man  give  for  a  reliable  chart  and  sailing 
directions,  for  a  great  light-house  with 
four  gleaming  glass  windows  with  whose 
friendly  rays  he  was  familiar!  In  the 
stygian  darkness  of  the  fog  and  night, 
what  would  such  a  thing  mean  to  any 
soul  that  wasn't  dead,  or  who  believed 
that  the  reaching  of  the  safety  of  a 
haven  beyond  was  largely  dependent 
on  his  own  action! 

THE  CHRISTIAN  AND  His  CHART 

Since  1883  I  have  been  consciously 
trying  so  to  sail  on  the  ocean  of  life  as 
to  keep  ever  heading  towards  that 
haven,  which  something  within  assures 
me  exists  beyond  the  bound  of  time  and 
[12] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

space.  God  knows  it  has  not  been  all 
calm  seas  and  sunny  skies  on  the  voyage, 
there  have  been  headwinds  and  fogs 
and  ice.  Yes,  there  have  been  also 
shoals  and  reefs  and  storms.  All  have 
had  their  share  in  forming  the  devious 
wake  the  years  have  left  behind  me. 
Think  what  the  chart  of  life  has  meant, 
still  means,  must  ever  mean  to  me.  It 
seems  to  me  it  must  mean  just  the 
same  to  any  man  faring  forth  on  the 
same  venture.  Its  inconceivable  value 
will  only  fade  when  I  have  crossed 
the  last  bar  and  met  my  pilot  face  to 
face. 

AN  UP-TO-DATE  GUIDE  BOOK 

The  Bible  is  no  mere  epistle,  or  col- 
lection, of  epigrammatic  truths,  no 
mere  book  of  irreproachable  maxims 
and  platitudes,  no  mythical  chronicle  of 
marvels  that  occurred  in  a  musty  past. 
It  is  a  living,  ever  up-to-date  guide 
book,  a  storehouse  of  all  necessary  wis- 
dom. It  is  written  in  the  history  of 
men's  lives,  who  fought  exactly  the 
battles  I  have  to  fight,  who  faced  the 
same  difficulties,  temptations  and  doubts 
[13] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

that  I  have  to  face,  who  tried  to  over- 
come, but  were  often  themselves  van- 
quished exactly  as  I  am  conscious  of 
having  tried  and  failed. 

But  it  is  the  one  storehouse  of  practi- 
cal truths  that  I  want,  for  I  see  that  the 
men  God  loved  were  only  the  prototypes 
of  myself,  weak  men  like  Moses  made 
strong,  fainting  men  like  Elijah  made 
courageous,  fallen  men  like  David  raised 
up,  a  book  in  which  saints  are  ever  made 
out  of  sinners;  a  book  recording  an 
abounding  love  forgiving  sin,  a  love  that 
accepts  much  of  every  kind,  soldiers 
and  sailors,  rich  men  and  poor,  wise  men 
and  foolish,  traders  and  mechanics, 
preachers  and  poets,  priests  and  kings  — 
a  love  so  abounding  it  finds  room  for  a 
murderous,  adulterous  king,  a  poor  fallen, 
outcast  harlot;  a  book  that  shows  how 
lepers  can  be  cleansed  and  lame  men 
made  to  walk,  and  blind  men  made  to 
see,  and  dead  men  quickened  into  life; 
how  this  new  life  makes  unlearned  men 
wise  and  cowards  brave  and  sordid  men 
unselfish.  It  is  a  book  of  infinite  hope, 
a  book  that  is  satisfied  with  faith  where 
my  knowledge  can't  reach,  a  book  from 
[14] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

cover  to  cover  soaked  with  and  exuding 
God's  abounding  love  to  us  his  creatures, 
a  book  written  so  that  all  men  may 
understand  enough  of  it  to  learn  to  love 
it  and  find  salvation  in  it,  and  yet  a 
book  so  profound  that  it  becomes  more 
and  more  a  veritable  bottomless  mine 
of  wealth,  and  an  unending  spring  of 
living  water  to  him  who  by  faith  can 
take  it  for  what  it  claims  to  be. 

NEEDED,  IF  UNWELCOME,  WARNING 

I  acknowledge  that  the  Bible  often 
seems  to  rebuke  me.  I  sometimes  find 
it  a  hard  master,  bidding  me  do  things 
that  at  the  time  I  hate  to  do,  go  to 
places  I  certainly  should  not  seek  my- 
self, and  leave  undone  things  themselves 
innocent  and  that  I  by  no  means  con- 
demn in  others.  The  Bible  seems  to  me 
to  have  forestalled  Lord  Lister,  who 
taught  that  scrupulous  and  apparently 
ridiculously  unnecessary  precautions  for 
cleanliness  were  the  only  safe  road  when 
human  life  was  at  stake.  Asepsis  is 
ever  an  apparently  expensive  rule  to 
follow.  But  my  experience  has  been 
that  the  Bible  has  not  taken  any  un- 
[15] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

necessary  position  in  calling  for  clean 
Christians  as  more  important  than 
orthodox  ones,  in  calling  for  fidelity 
to  a  spotless  Christ,  in  insisting  on 
purity  of  heart  as  a  prime  essential  for 
an  acceptable  servant,  rather  than  on 
any  correct  intellectual  apprehension. 

I  know  this  is  hard.  It  is  to  me  the 
real  meaning  of  Via  Crucis,  Via  Crucis. 
But  I  haven't  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  it  is 
a  further  proof  of  the  inspiration  of 
this  Book  of  Books. 

THE  AUTHORSHIP  QUESTION 

And  so  it  is  all  through.  I  love  it 
more  every  day  because  I  value  it  more 
as  a  lamp  to  my  path  and  a  light  to  my 
feet.  Almost  daily  some  fresh  experi- 
ence strengthens  my  conviction  of  its 
more  than  human  wisdom.  My  love 
grows  for  it  proportionately  as  I  under- 
stand it  better.  I  hope  I  may  not  be 
misunderstood  when  I  confess  I  regard 
it  as  God  speaking  to  me,  though  my 
head  is  so  thick,  or  my  heart  so  dull,  I 
don't  always  catch  his  meaning.  Yes, 
sometimes  I  do  wake  up  to  find  some 
new  version  has  left  out  of  the  Bible 
[16] 


A    MAN'S    HELPERS 

some  portion  I  liked,  as  not  being 
justified  from  all  the  various  codices. 
It  never  disturbs  me,  for  I  find  lots  left. 
And  even  if  John  didn't  write  John, 
and  Mark  didn't  write  Mark,  and  Paul 
didn't  write  his  letter  to  the  Thes- 
salonians,  I  simply  take  it  some  one  else 
wrote  it,  who  had  God's  inspirations, 
but  who  allowed,  willingly  or  unwillingly, 
John,  Mark,  and  Paul  to  have  the  credit 
of  it  through  the  ages. 

The  admiration  for  it  comes  exactly 
as  does  my  admiration  for  the  Marconi 
wireless  installation  on  my  little  steamer; 
somehow  from  somewhere  it  brings  news 
to  me  that  I  couldn't  get  otherwise, 
and  I  find  by  experience  that  news  is 
always  true  news.  Who  invented  wire- 
less telegraphy,  whether  Clerk  Maxwell 
or  Signer  Marconi,  doesn't  trouble  me, 
any  more  than  how  the  engine  a  hun- 
dred miles  away  spells  English  to  me  at 
sea  through  fog  and  dark.  The  only 
person  that  is  likely  to  mind  should  be 
Marconi.  I  suspect  Clerk  Maxwell 
doesn't  now  and  I  know  I  don't. 


[171 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

A  MATTER  OF  AFFECTION 

I  own  a  beautiful  little  black  spaniel, 
that  goes  everywhere  I  go.  He  is  a 
regular  little  chum.  He  does  every- 
thing but  talk  to  me,  and  I  can  generally 
understand  him  without  that.  He  is  a 
real  little  optimist  and  he  cheers  me  up 
a  hundred  times.  He  is  a  truer  and 
more  valued  friend  than  many  on  two 
legs  that  I  have  known,  and  who  could 
talk  only  too  much.  He  saved  my  life 
by  his  intelligence  when  out  on  an  ice 
pan  when  I  had  no  other  chance  left 
me.  He  was  just  as  cheerful,  facing 
death  out  there  with  me,  as  when 
he  sits  up  by  my  knee  for  his  break- 
fast. All  I  can  say  is  I  love  the  little 
fellow. 

I've  often  thought  my  Bible  means  all 
this  to  me  —  with  the  further  advan- 
tage of  its  being  able  to  speak  to 
me,  of  always  being  wise  in  its  speech, 
and  never  leaving  me  sorry  it  had 
spoken.  I  can't  understand  all  it  says 
at  the  time,  so  I  just  go  on  trusting 
it  as  I  do  my  spaniel,  till  it  becomes 
plain. 

[18] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

NOTES  AND   SCRIBBLINGS 

I  have  always  had  a  habit  of  scrib- 
bling on  the  margin  of  my  Bible  any 
helpful  thought  that  comes  to  me  from 
it  as  I  read  it,  or  hear  some  one  else 
expound  it.  I  love  a  Bible  reading  ten 
times  better  than  any  sermon,  and 
always  did.  I've  tramped  many  miles 
to  hear  Joseph  Parker's  Sunday  morn- 
ing Bible  talk.  The  editor  of  the 
People  s  Bible  had  always  something 
to  say  to  the  people.  I  wouldn't  ride 
in  trolleys  on  Sundays,  but  I  was  glad 
to  walk  a  few  miles  for  what  he  gave  me. 
Writing  in  one's  Bible  feels  like  answer- 
ing it.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  keeping  up 
a  conversation.  One's  notes  are  often 
trivial  and  sometimes  one  feels  ashamed 
of  them  on  looking  back  after  a  lapse 
of  time.  But  as  a  particular  copy  gets 
filled  up  and  illegible,  it  is  easy  to 
purchase  a  new  one.  In  these  days 
even  soft  covered  pocket  editions  are 
cheap. 

I  have  no  sentiment  about  one  old 
copy,  and  the  markings  themselves 
generally  are  so  far  from  satisfying  me 
[19] 


A    MAN'S    HELPERS 

the  next  time  I  come  to  the  same 
passage,  that  I  am  glad  to  have  a  clean 
page  so  as  to  get  an  open  field  for 
thought.  I  still  have  a  sort  of  dislike 
to  reading  my  Bible  in  railway  trains, 
and  especially  when  one  is  waiting  for 
meals  to  be  served  in  public  places, 
where  one  has  no  one  to  speak  to  and 
nothing  else  to  fill  his  mind,  though 
I  prefer  the  Bible  then  as  a  thought 
suggester  to  any  daily  paper  I  ever 
saw. 

The  reason  that  one  doesn't  like  to 
produce  one's  Bible  in  these  odd  minutes 
is  because  he  hates  to  be  thought  to  be 
posing  as  "unco'  guid."  Some  day  I 
shall  hope  to  have  my  pocket  Bible 
bound  like  my  Oxford  book  of  verse  in 
a  cover  that  is  not  distinctively  religious, 
and  in  a  form  that  is  not  conventional; 
in  fact,  such  an  edition  as  I  should  choose 
for  any  other  of  my  favorite  companion 
books.  The  Twentieth  Century  Bible 
or  Modern  Reader's  Bible  on  India 
paper  and  in  a  yellow  cover  would 
be  more  to  my  mind.  I  presume  the 
reason  that  the  same  passages  start 
new  trains  of  thought  on  returning  to 
[20] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

them  is  because  it  is  a  new  man  they 
are  talking  to.  Anyhow,  wonderful  as 
it  sounds,  it  certainly  is  true. 

THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  WORD 

Nothing  strikes  me,  however,  as  so 
wonderful  about  the  Bible  as  its  wis- 
dom. Never  book  spake  like  this  book. 
It  gives  me  thoughts  that  never  entered 
my  head  otherwise,*  and  never  on  any 
occasion  have  I  regretted  its  conversa- 
tion afterwards.  I  always  find  myself 
astonished  that  a  lot  of  people  of  such 
ordinary  rank  in  life  gave  birth  to  it. 
Personally  I  have  never  had  time  to 
devote  to  studying  the  text  in  Greek 
or  Latin  or  Hebrew,  nor  do  I  read  San- 
skrit or  cuneiform  languages  or  inscrip- 
tions on  monoliths.  There  never  seems 
any  need  for  me  to  do  so.  If  all  the 
scholars  of  past  and  present  years 
haven't  yet  arrived  at  what  the  original 
meant  sufficiently  to  put  it  into  the 
vulgar  English  tongue,  it  would  be 
simply  presumption  on  my  part  to 
endeavor  to  help  them.  I  found  it 
quite  enough  to  translate  the  old  Eng- 
lish of  two  and  a  half  centuries  ago  into 
[21] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

the  twentieth  century  vernacular,  till 
these  new  versions  came  to  my  aid.  I 
never  have  had  any  bias  towards  de- 
voting time  to  the  study  of  musty 
manuscripts,  as  some  men  have. 

A  RESPONSIVE  BOOK 

I  do  not  read  my  Bible  for  the  English 
of  it.  All  I  care  about  is  understanding 
it.  I  have  lost  all  interest  at  times  in 
trying  to  read  it,  for  I  found  so  many 
places  where  the  King  James  transla- 
tion conveyed  no  meaning  to  me. 
Even  if  the  English  were  verbally  or 
otherwise  inspired,  what  use  was  that  if 
I  didn't  understand  it?  It  isn't  a  kind 
of  charm,  the  mere  recital  of  which 
wards  off  evil,  nor  can  it  be  conferring  a 
favor  upon  God  to  read  and  listen  to 
what  he  says,  nor  does  it  leave  him 
under  an  obligation.  It  does  bring  me 
nearer  to  him  when  I  understand  it, 
for  it  is  a  storehouse  of  rich  treasures 
of  wisdom  into  which  I  may  delve.  I 
do  that,  however,  asking  him  to  give 
me  just  what  he  sees  I  need  each  time 
I  go  to  it,  and  I  do  not  look  on  it  as  an 
enlarged  armory  into  which  I  may  go 
[22] 


A   MAN'S    HELPERS 

to  get  some  fresh  weapon  to  score  my 
enemy  and  perpetuate  strife. 

It  seems  to  me  you  get  out  of  it 
pretty  well  what  you  are  in  search  of, 
and  I've  met  men  who  have  come  from 
it  bristling  like  hedgehogs  or  sea  urchins, 
so  as  to  be  mighty  undesirable  com- 
panions. I  think  if  I  couldn't  come 
away  from  reading  my  Bible  more 
peaceful  and  more  forgiving  and  more 
contented  with  the  world,  I  wouldn't 
worry  it  as  often  as  I  do  now,  anyhow. 

The  reason  the  average  man  doesn't 
read  his  Bible  is  because  he  doesn't 
want  to.  It  isn't  from  principle  or 
conviction  he  neglects  it.  Put  it  in  a 
form  in  which  it  interests  him;  add,  if 
you  like,  the  discipline  of  becoming 
familiar  with  it  as  a  boy,  and  so  acquir- 
ing a  taste  for  it;  be  sure  he  has  a  real 
understanding  of  its  exquisite,  simple 
stories,  and  he  won't  fail  to  return  to  it 
sometime. 

As  for  compelling  boys  to  promise  to 
read  so  much  of  it  every  day,  I  have  no 
use  for  that.  That  is  the  way  I  was 
induced  to  take  cod  liver  oil,  but  never 
learnt  to  like  it.  Moreover,  it  was  a 
[23] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

horrible  temptation  to  say  you  had 
taken  it,  when  perhaps  you  had  only 
taken  it  to  the  fire  or  the  sink.  I  know 
there  was  a  tendency  to  make  boys 
either  unnatural  or  unveracious  by  that 
method.  Yet  I  also  know  the  Bible 
can  be  made  interesting,  whether  to 
one  ten  years  old  or  twenty. 

To  me  the  book  is  a  gospel,  or  good 
news,  and  only  as  such  do  I  value  it. 
When  one  thinks  of  the  millions  who 
spend  hours  a  week  reading  newspapers, 
the  majority  of  which  are  crowded  with 
useless,  harmful,  or  incorrect  items,  it 
seems  not  so  "old  maidish"  as  some 
might  consider  it  to  read  one's  Bible 
more,  and  save  sluicing  one's  cerebral 
gray  matter  with  a  stream  that  is  not 
calculated  to  evolve  its  capacity  for  right 
thinking  or  steady  up  its  equilibrium. 

THE  PUZZLESOME  PORTIONS 

Being  always  fond  of  puzzles  and 
problem  solving,  I  can  take  some  short 
portion  of  the  Bible  and  enjoy  thinking 
over  its  meaning  for  me  at  odd  moments 
of  the  day.  If  I  find  a  solution,  I  take 
good  care  to  write  it  in  my  copy,  and 
[24] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

later  to  hand  the  idea  on  to  some  one  I 
think  it  will  help.  I  never  yet  had  a 
man  think  this  was  talking  cant,  and 
they  are  generally  grateful  for  the 
thought. 

HELPS  TO  UNDERSTANDING  IT 

I  first  learned  to  study  my  Bible  from 
D.  L.  Moody 's  writings.  He  wrote  a 
tract  called  "How  to  Study  the  Bible," 
and  any  one  just  beginning  to  look  for 
help  to  the  old  chart  of  life  could  do 
much  worse  than  commence  with  this 
little  help  from  that  eminently  practical, 
human  Christian  man.  One  can  strike 
in  on  the  first  page,  without  trouble  or 
expense.  A  word  concordance  and  an 
English  dictionary  are  the  next  most 
useful  helps  in  my  opinion.  Of  all  the 
commentaries  none  to  my  mind  ap- 
proaches Matthew  Henry's.  I  fully  en- 
dorse Charles  Spurgeon's  remark,  that 
any  Bible  student  who  has  not  got  that 
book  should  sell  his  coat  and  buy  it.  I 
think  to  study  the  Bible  for  addresses,  and 
so  forth,  is  a  fatal  mistake.  Study  it  for 
yourself  as  a  guide  to  avoid  shoals  and 
rocks,  as  a  key  to  open  the  door  to  the 
[25] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

real  pathway  of  life.  A  friend  of  mine, 
who  went  to  Uganda  as  a  missionary, 
told  me  for  this  reason  he  found  the 
silent  years  while  he  was  learning  the 
language  just  invaluable.  As  for  pub- 
lic reading  of  the  Bible,  we  have  an 
informal  way  at  our  fishermen's  ser- 
vices of  commenting  on  the  text  as  we 
read  it,  having  of  course  sought  for 
wisdom  to  understand  it  ourselves  be- 
forehand. I  should  hate  to  get  up 
and  read  in  public  a  message  from  God 
that  I  didn't  understand  or  hadn't  first 
tried  to  understand.  How  could  I  make 
any  one  else  do  so  otherwise?  Take 
for  instance  Isaiah,  Chap,  ix,  and  read 
that  aloud  in  the  authorized  version 
without  comment.  To  me  it  is  a  stulti- 
fying proceeding,  as  it  conveys  no 
meaning.  If  one  were  ordered  to  mono- 
tone or  read  the  couplet  about  the 
"slithy  toves"  from  Alice  in  Wonder- 
land, which  is  also  meaningless  as  it 
stands,  one  would  blankly  refuse. 

THE  ART  OF  EXPLANATION 

Christ  loved  to  explain  it,  Philip  did 
the  same,   and  he   was  a  wonderfully 
[26] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

successful  Christian.  Paul  used  to  ex- 
plain the  Scriptures.  The  explanation 
seemed  especially  to  be  the  Christian 
disciples'  specialty.  They  had  the  Scrip- 
tures before,  but  the  men  on  the  road 
to  Emmaus,  the  eunuch  in  the  chariot, 
the  Jews  in  Asia,  simply  needed  the 
explanation.  The  only  drawback  to 
the  Scripture  having  been  written  so 
long  ago  is  that  it  is  constantly  necessary 
to  convert  it  into  the  vernacular.  What 
is  this  but  trying  to  make  "every  man 
to  hear  God's  word  speak  in  his  own 
language."  Surely  this  is  still  a  gift  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  to-day,  whether  we 
seek  to  hear  God's  voice  in  it  ourselves, 
or  make  it  audible  to  others.  There 
is  more  pathos  perhaps  than  we  are  apt 
to  think  at  first  in  the  old  yarn  about 
the  woman  who,  after  hearing  the  Bible 
read, could  only  remember  the  "blessed 
word  Mesopotamia." 

It  is  always  a  great  privilege  to  me  to 
be  asked  to  "read  the  Scripture "  in 
public,  and  even  portions  that  mean 
little  to  me  I  have  known  to  be  a  great 
source  of  joy  to  hearers  whose  needs  I 
did  not  know.  The  hush  that  marks 
[27] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

an  intelligent  reading,  the  sitting  up 
of  the  audience,  the  silence  in  which  the 
proverbial  pin  could  be  heard  to  drop, 
shows  incontrovertibly  how  the  Bible 
will  still  hold  an  audience  when  it  gets 
fair  treatment.  Yet  how  often  have 
we  all  waked  up  at  the  "Here  endeth 
the  Scripture"  without  the  least  idea 
whether  it  was  Old  or  New  Testament 
that  had  been  droned  out  to  us. 

SENSIBLE  AND  RATIONAL 

To  me  the  Bible  is  a  sensible  and 
rational  book.  Whether  it  agrees  or 
appears  to  agree  with  the  science  of  the 
day  does  not  concern  me.  I  have  no 
fear  but  that  science  will  find  out  the 
truth  some  day  about  it,  without  my 
losing  time  trying  to  help  her  out  in 
that  direction.  If  she  advances  as 
rapidly  in  the  matter  as  she  does  in 
healing  men's  bodies,  in  her  conquest 
of  other  difficulties,  she  will  come  to 
the  truth  in  due  time,  I  know.  The 
Bible  reader  of  to-day  seems  to  me 
already  to  be  understanding  it  better 
and  loving  it  more,  judging  by  the 
methods  men  are  adopting  all  the 
[28] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

world  over  to  carry  out  its  biddings. 
The  infallible  interpretation  of  the  Bible, 
that  was  considered  so  infallibly  in- 
fallible in  the  middle  ages,  certainly 
interpreted  by  the  actions  that  resulted 
therefrom,  suggest  to  me  that  it  would 
be  better  for  the  twentieth  century 
church  of  God  if  the  leaders  of  the  sects 
claimed  a  little  less  infallibility  than 
even  they  now  do.  Here  perhaps 
science  would  own  up,  also,  that  every- 
thing is  not  yet  revealed  nor  the  last 
word  spoken  yet. 

NOT  NECESSARY  TO  EXPLAIN  ALL 

The  question  here  discussed  is, 
"What  does  the  Bible  Mean  to  Me?" 
When  first  converted,  my  friends  and 
acquaintances  often  asked  me,  "How 
about  Cain's  wife?"  "Did  the  whale 
swallow  Jonah  ?  "  and  so  on.  I  can  only 
answer  still,  "My  dear  fellow,  I  give  it 
up."  When  they  replied,  "Surely,  then, 
you  don't  believe  it,"  I  could  only  say, 
"I  can't  explain  it,"  or  say,  "It  isn't  ex- 
plainable." I  can't  explain  ten  thousand 
things,  the  wireless  telegram,  the  course 
of  cancer,  the  energy  of  radium,  why 
[291 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

sleep  may  confidently  be  indulged  in. 
I  don't  think  what  comes  after  death 
is  a  very  pressing  matter  after  all.  By 
disclaiming  superior  knowledge  I  was 
generally  permitted  to  go  my  way  and 
retain  their  affections  quite  as  well  as 
if  I  had  embarked  on  voluble  and 
specious  explanations  After  all,  there 
must  be  some  limits  to  the  labors  of  a 
surgeon,  having  so  many  functions  to 
give  attention  to  as  I  have. 

Is  it  a  very  terrible  confession  that  I 
have  reserved  for  the  end,  that  I,  a 
Christian  missionary  all  my  life,  am 
still  in  exactly  the  same  position  as  I 
was  with  regard  to  many  of  the  ques- 
tions that  my  more  theologically-minded 
fellow-workers  are  so  much  better  in- 
formed upon?  Is  it  a  still  further 
lapse  from  virtue  and  confession  of 
lack  of  qualification  to  serve  the  Christ, 
if  I  own  that  these  matters  do  not 
worry  me  one  iota,  however  my  candid, 
cock-sure  critics  often  try  to  do  so. 

A  PRICELESS  THING 

I  love  the  Bible.     I  believe  it  con- 
tains all  necessary  truth  about  the  way 
[30] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

a  man  should  walk  here  below,  I  am 
glad  there  are  still  some  puzzles  left  in 
it  for  me  and  for  those  that  come  after 
me.  The  milk  I  find  in  it  nourishes  me. 
There  is  no  doubt  meat  I  can't  digest, 
that  those  with  different  viscera  than 
mine  are  already  assimilating.  This  I 
must  rest  content  with,  I  presume.  Every 
young  man,  I  think,  ought  not  to  expect 
to  be  so  infallible  as  to  understand  the 
whole  of  it.  That  may  explain  some 
not  prizing  it  highly  enough.  To  me 
it  means  everything.  Take  it  away 
and  you  can  have  all  else  I  possess. 


[31] 


II 

WHAT  PRAYER  MEANS  TO  ME 


WHAT  PRAYER  MEANS  TO  ME 

1  RAYER  to  me  means  speaking  to 
my  Father  in  Heaven,  who  yet  some- 
how lives  on  earth  enough  to  hear  me, 
and  not  only  knows  what  I  want,  but 
also  what  I  really  need/or  what  is  best 
for  me,  and,  moreover,  who  is  sure  to 
give  it  to  me. 

I  approach  him  exactly  as  any  one 
else  to  whom  I  would  take  a  petition, 
and  I  address  him  as  my  common 
sense  suggests,  in  perfect  confidence 
that  that  is  the  way  he  would  wish  me 
to  treat  him.  I  credit  him  with  know- 
ing how  much  I  want  a  thing,  and 
whether  I  am  willing  to  do  all  in  my 
own  power  to  obtain  it.  That  is,  I  con- 
sider he  will  look  to  me,  as  it  were,  to 
be  willing  to  pay  the  price.  I  never  ex- 
pect him  to  do  my  share. 

NOT  FOR  OUR  MUCH  SPEAKING 

I  do  not,  therefore,  feel  it  incumbent, 

or  even  respectful  on  my  part,  to  be 

asking  him  for  heaps  of  things  I  care 

[35] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

nothing  about,  and  I  do  not  consider 
he  would  approve  of  my  repeating 
empty  words,  or  words  that  mean  in 
reality  nothing  to  me,  and  calling  that 
prayer,  and  patting  myself  on  the  back, 
metaphorically,  for  going  through  the 
process.  Nor  do  I  consider  I  am  putting 
my  Maker  under  any  particular  obliga- 
tion to  me  in  any  way  simply  because 
I  devote  time  morning  and  evening  to 
talking  to  him  for  the  sake  of  talking. 
Such  practices  never  seemed  to  me  to 
have  any  right  to  be  called  devotion, 
or  devotions. 

I  don't  believe  I  can  in  prayer  convey 
any  information  on  general  topics  to 
the  Almighty,  and  I  don't  consider 
that  when  praying  to  him  in  public  I 
am  called  on  to  convey  information  to 
any  one  else.  There  is  left,  then,  the 
giving  of  thanks  to  him  for  his  goodness, 
and  that  I  class  as  praise,  and  do  it  very 
briefly  in  prayer,  considering  song  a 
more  suitable  medium  to  express  it. 
And  there  is  also  confession  of  my  own 
shortcomings. 

Here  again  I  find  little  comfort  in, 
and  little  use  for,  the  confession  of 
[36] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

things  in  general.  I  am  accustomed 
to  spend  more  time  in  searching  my  own 
heart  and  life  for  the  real  causes  of  my 
failures,  while  walking  along  the  street 
or  pacing  the  deck,  than  on  my  knees. 
I  have  been  taught  to  believe  in  the 
habit  of  prayer,  but  I  believe  it  is  more 
respectful  to  go  to  sleep  prayerless  than 
to  go  to  sleep  on  your  knees.  I  have 
more  often  made  a  big  effort  to  keep 
awake  to  pray  on  my  knees  when  I  have 
been  in  company,  camping,  or  in  cabins 
of  strange  vessels,  than  I  have  when  in 
my  own,  for  the  simple  reason  that  I 
don't  like  to  be  misunderstood,  and 
merely  kneeling  down  is  certainly  a 
good  declaration  that  you  acknowledge 
your  sonship  of  God.  I  have  seen  more 
than  once  one  man  after  another  through 
a  hunting  camp  kneel  down  and  "say 
their  prayers  "  just  because  I  did;  and 
I  have  thought  I  noticed  that  that 
simple  act  made  a  big  difference  in  our 
relationship  afterwards,  forming  a  bond 
of  union,  as  we  all  recognized  our  com- 
mon mortality. 

From  this  it  is  obvious  that,  except 
on  extraordinary  occasions,  the  actual 
[37] 

136476 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

time  devoted  to  "saying  prayers"  has 
not  been  excessive  in  my  case,  and  thus 
prayer  has  never  been  tedious  to  me, 
or  a  weariness  to  which  I  thought  it 
necessary  to  accustom  my  flesh.  I 
have  never  considered  it  as  important 
as  reading  the  Bible  and  trying  to  catch 
its  meaning  for  the  day,  or  for  some 
problem  I  am  face  to  face  with,  or  for 
my  general  life.  I  find  greater  pleasure, 
because  I  think  I  hear  through  its  pages 
God  talking  to  me.  I  have,  therefore, 
cultivated  that  habit  much  more,  and  I 
see  no  reason  to  regret  it. 

It  is  always  a  great  grief  to  me  that 
in  the  Church  of  which  I  am  a  member 
the  Bible  is  read  so  unintelligently,  so 
mechanically,  and  without  any  com- 
ment, and  still  in  a  version,  the  old  Eng- 
lish, which  makes  the  sense  almost 
impossible  to  catch,  and  of  which  the 
translation  is  so  poor  that  over  and  over 
again  the  point  is  lost,  as  in  the  first 
lesson  for  Christmas  morning,  Isaiah  ix, 
1-8.  I  am  vandal  and  utilitarian  enough 
to  believe  that  the  same  translated  into 
newspaper  English  would  be  provoca- 
tive of  much  more  good. 
[38] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

I  was  speaking  once  to  a  man  who 
had  been  bringing  up  a  young  Jewish 
lad  with  his  family.  The  boy  had  con- 
sistently expressed  a  wish  to  become  a 
preacher.  One  day,  however,  an  ex- 
planation was  given  of  what  prayer 
meant,  and  of  the  privilege  it  was. 
The  boy  soon  after  came  and  said,  "I 
shan't  be  a  preacher  now,  Dad."  "Why 
not?"  said  my  friend.  "Because  I 
cannot  find  beautiful  enough  words  to 
speak  to  God  in." 

Though  this  sentiment  seems  a  truer 
one  than  that  which  animates  in  public 
prayer  the  familiarity  of  some  men  with 
their  Creator,  I  confess  that  to  me  the 
most  beautiful  language  is  the  most 
simple  and  the  most  intelligible;  in 
English  it  is  practically  monosyllabic. 
The  aspirations  of  the  human  heart 
can  never  to  my  mind  be  expressed  in 
words  more  beautiful  and  more  reverent 
for  public  or  congregational  use  than 
those  in  the  familiar  hymns,  shown  by 
a  plebiscite  taken  some  years  ago  in 
England  to  be  the  most  popular  in  the 
English  language.  Almost  all  of  these 
are  monosyllabic: 

[39] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

"  Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee." 

"  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea." 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly." 

and  so  on.  These  to  my  mind  have  no 
peers  among  prayers  in  verse,  and  the 
simple  Lord's  prayer,  "Our  Father 
which  art  in  Heaven,"  no  peer  among 
prayers  in  prose.  Simplicity  is  always 
the  measure  of  the  love  I  have  for  ver- 
biage anyhow,  and  "God  have  mercy 
on  me  a  sinner"  suits  my  idea  of  prayer 
much  better  than  all  the  exuberant 
verbosity  with  which  some  think  it  is 
necessary  to  clothe  their  petitions. 

FORM  VERSUS  SPIRIT 

Thus  the  bent  of  my  mind  has  never 
permitted  me  to  believe  that  the  beauty 
of  expression  has  anything  whatever 
to  do  with  commending  a  prayer  to 
God,  or  to  an  earnest  soul  in  distress. 
In  fact,  the  eloquence  of  the  setting 
tends  to  distract  my  mind  from  the  real 
object.  In  the  prayer  of  petition,  when 
your  whole  soul  is  eagerly  set  on  getting 
an  answer,  you  have  little  inclination 
[40] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

to  bother  with  words;  while  in  the 
prayer  of  confession  it  seems  imperti- 
nent to  try  to  mitigate  the  horror  of 
it  by  such  shallow  things.  I  never  for- 
get hearing  a  prayer  characterized  as 
"the  most  beautiful  prayer  ever  ad- 
dressed even  to  a  Boston  audience." 
Plain  "God  have  mercy"  sounds  so 
genuine  a  cry  of  distress,  it  comes  like 
a  voice  calling  for  help  out  of  the  dark- 
ness, and  awakens  naturally  in  one's 
own  mind  a  desire  to  help  at  once  with- 
out any  reference  to  the  way  the  cry 
is  worded. 

The  fact  is,  when  a  real  cry  for  help 
or  mercy  comes,  one  doesn't  think  a 
second  of  the  form  of  it,  it  is  the  tone 
that  tells  you  of  the  genuineness  of  him 
who  makes  it.  Or  when  a  man  or  boy 
comes  to  me  convicted  of  having  done 
me  wrong,  and  desires  forgiveness,  the 
more  brokenly  and  humbly  the  story  is 
told,  the  more  quickly  will  my  own  unfor- 
giving heart  be  convinced  of  the  value 
of  it,  and  the  more  readily  and  eagerly 
desire  to  extend  the  prerogative  of 
mercy.  A  stilted  phraseology  would 
be  so  absolutely  out  of  place  as  to  be 
[41] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

ludicrous.  The  same  cry  or  confession, 
evidently  carefully  set  in  the  politest 
language  of  the  best  society,  or  in  the 
choicest  expressions  of  the  most  correct 
literature,  would  only  divert  my  mind 
from  the  actual  petition. 

Long  prayers  have  always  been  un- 
suited  to  my  temperament.  The  longer 
they  are  the  harder  I  have  always  found 
it  to  derive  anything  of  value  from  them. 
As  a  boy  I  was  accustomed,  and  well 
able,  to  sleep  as  peacefully  through  the 
various  groups  of  prayers  at  the  ser- 
vices I  had  to  attend,  and  yet  wake 
exactly  as  the  rest  rose  from  their  knees, 
as  I  have  known  some  men  able  to  take 
exactly  forty  winks  after  dinner  and  no 
more.  I  shall  carry  to  my  grave  grati- 
tude to  D.  L.  Moody,  who  led  me  to 
stay  and  listen  to  his  message  by  calling 
on  his  audience  to  sing  a  hymn  while 
a  long-winded  brother  should  finish  his 
prayer,  the  duration  of  which  was 
actually  at  that  moment  driving  me 
out  of  the  building.  In  short,  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  more  keenly  I  want  a 
thing  the  briefer  my  form  of  petition, 
and  the  more  directly  I  come  to  the  point. 
[42] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

Repetition  of  the  prayer  seems  to  me 
both  scriptural  and  natural.  We  should 
do  the  same  so  long  as  there  was  any 
hope  even  if  the  petition  was  being 
made  to  an  earthly  father.  • 

Such  crises  in  life  as  kept  Jacob  or 
the  Master  praying  all  night  have 
either  never  been  mine,  or  I  have  been 
too  dull  of  soul  to  perceive  them.  Yet 
I  have  seen  physical  danger  in  many 
forms.  The  wakefulness  of  those 
haunted  by  fear  of  approaching  trouble, 
or  by  the  remorse  for  past  errors,  is,  I 
think,  rather  physical  than  spiritual. 
Excitement  and  instability  that  accom- 
panies trouble  and  worry  is  not  cured 
by  lengthy  prayers,  so  much  as  by  the 
consciousness  of  no  fault  of  our  own, 
and  of  God's  face  not  being  turned 
away.  If  due  to  our  own  folly,  it  is  not 
to  be  cured  by  formal  supplications,  but 
by  making  amends  as  soon  as  we  can. 

MY  PRAYER  ON  THE  ICE 

In  physical  danger  there  is  no  ques- 
tion that  Nehemiah's  instantaneous, 
wordless  prayer  is  sufficient.  I  know 
my  prayer,  when  adrift  in  the  Atlantic 

[43] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

on  a  pan  of  ice,  and  when  I  never  for 
one  moment  anticipated  living  through 
the  night,  was  no  longer  than  usual. 
I  slept  peacefully  until  the  moon  rose 
at  midnight,  and  then  again  till  just 
before  one  o'clock,  when  a  scheme  to 
make  a  flag-pole  out  of  my  dog's  legs 
crossed  my  mind  and  occupied  my 
time.  If  my  mind  did  repeat  a  special 
petition  at  all,  it  was  in  the  mono- 
syllabic language  of  an  old  hymn  that 
kept  running  through  my  head: 

"  My  God  and  Father,  while  I  stray 
Far  from  my  Home  on  life's  rough  way. 
Oh,  teach  me  from  my  heart  to  say, 
Thy  will  be  done." 

No  doubt  this  same  bent  of  mind  has 
always  given  me  a  horror  of  acting  as  if 
prayer  was  locking  oneself  up  and  ask- 
ing God  to  do  what  you  could  and  ought 
to  do  yourself.  The  awful  ghastliness 
of  a  picture  like  "The  Novice,"  in 
which  I  presume  some  would  call  the 
act  the  monks  are  engaged  in,  "prayer," 
to  my  mind  can't  be  excelled  by  the 
most  horrible  picture  of  a  bloody 
battle-field.  There  is  a  nobility  about 
men  who  do  almost  anything,  a  con- 
[44] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

solation  even  in  death  in  battle,  that 
capacities  and  life  have  at  least  not  been 
allowed  to  atrophy  for  want  of  use. 
But  that  a  life  should  be  entirely  de- 
voted to  talking  and  repetition  of  words, 
while  capacities  for  practical  usefulness 
are  sinfully  wasted,  is  to  me  more  than 
unspeakably  sad,  such  a  life  as  that 
seems  to  me  most  undeniably  lost. 

NOT  A  SUBSTITUTE  FOR  WORK 

So  far  is  anything  of  that  kind  from 
my  idea  of  prayer,  that  I  can  only  see 
that  it  involves  the  position  of  a  parasite 
on  humanity,  combined  with  an  attempt 
to  repeat  the  offence  and  become  a 
parasite  on  the  Creator  and  Giver  of 
our  talents  as  well.  Moreover,  it 
parades  before  the  world's  workers  a 
view  of  prayer  that  alienates  their 
sympathy  from  any  prayer  at  all.  I 
can  see  prayer  in  a  man  buying  a  spade, 
and  digging  his  land,  and  planting  his 
potatoes,  but  I  can't  see  any  in  a  man 
sitting  in  a  house  and  chanting  forms 
of  words  that  potatoes  may  be  forth- 
coming, while  all  the  time  he  expects  to 
ask  another  to  find  them  for  him  free. 
[45] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

It  seems  like  asking  God  to  feed  him, 
while  he  does  nothing.  I  can  see 
prayer  in  a  man  going  to  college  and 
spending  time  and  money  and  energy 
in  learning  all  he  can  about  the  body 
God  has  given  to  him  and  the  truths 
revealed  to  men  of  life-long  devotion 
to  their  work,  like  Lister,  Pasteur,  and 
Simpson.  I  can't  see  any  prayer  in 
not  making  any  of  these  efforts,  but 
sitting  at  home  and  asking  God  to 
relieve  one  of  everything  but  talking. 

I  do  not  underrate  the  value  of  prayer, 
or  the  injunction  to  pray.  But  God 
revealed  antiseptics  to  Lister  as  the 
result  of  his  labor  and  courage,  and 
anesthetics  to  Morton  and  Simpson  in 
return  for  venturing  even  their  lives 
to  discover  some  escape  from  the 
agonies  of  humanity,  and  all  kinds  of 
knowledge  to  other  indefatigable  workers 
who  have  given  us  such  things  as  anti- 
toxins and  vaccines  and  swept  out 
innumerable  diseases.  Men  suffered  un- 
told agonies  from  which  they  just  as 
sincerely  prayed  for  deliverance  long 
before  the  days  of  ether  and  chloroform. 
Yet  a  man  operated  on  for  the  removal 
[46] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

of  stone  felt  the  knife  even  if  he  had 
strength  given  him  to  bear  the  pain. 

How  in  the  face  of  these  facts  of  life 
can  I  believe  that  in  return  for  mere 
words  of  lazy  wishes  of  idle  folk,  God 
will  stultify  the  patient  self-sacrificing 
efforts  that  have  wrested  such  great 
results  for  his  children?  I  have  no 
faith  in  prayer  when  we  are  not  doing 
our  share.  When  we  are  trying,  or 
have  tried  and  failed,  when  we  are  at 
our  wit's  end,  I  fully  believe  in  crying 
to  God  in  our  trouble.  If  there  is  any 
error  with  regard  to  length,  to  which 
I  always  feel  that  I  with  most  men 
must  plead  guilty,  it  is  only  in  regard 
to  our  insufficiently  expressing  our 
gratitude  to  God  for  his  goodness  and 
his  loving  kindness  to  the  children  of 
men. 

WORDLESS  PRAYERS 

My  view  of  prayer  seems  to  be  funda- 
mentally different  from  that  of  many 
others,  for  I  never  have  considered  it 
actually  necessary  to  find  any  words 
at  all  in  which  to  clothe  my  petitions. 
I  have  lived  a  life  so  irregular,  so 
[47] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

wandering  and  so  physically  exacting, 
that  I  have  been  unable  in  any  way  to 
follow  the  example  of  most  men  and  lay 
aside  certain  fixed  times  and  seasons 
for  prayer  at  all.  A  doctor's  life  in- 
volves irregular  day  and  night  work,  a 
sailor's  life,  as  master  of  a  ship,  does  the 
same,  a  traveling  lecturer's  even  more 
so.  Thus  I  have  never  settled  down  in 
a  home  of  my  own,  and  therefore  it 
may  be  that  my  attitude  to  prayer  is 
necessarily  unusual  and  unconventional. 
Just  as  no  fixed  time  has  been  pos- 
sible, so  no  fixed  forms  of  words  have 
seemed  either  suitable  or  attractive. 
The  attractive  pattern  of  prayer  to  me 
has  never  been  the  meditative  and  in- 
trospective. This  may  be  because  I 
have  been  too  occupied  and  my  time 
too  cut  up,  so  that  I  have  never  acquired 
the  capacity  for  enjoying  long  prayer 
services.  And  though  I  have  on  many, 
many  occasions  attended  matins  and 
evensong,  and  the  less  formal  but  not 
less  lengthy  prayer  meetings,  I  have 
gone  and  stayed  and  come  away,  often 
enough  only  in  a  resentful  mood  that 
in  a  short  day  so  much  time  should  be 
[48] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

called  for  to  inform  my  Father  of  what 
he  knows  perfectly  well  already,  simply 
to  show  that  I  recognize  my  dependence 
on  him. 

No,  my  ideal  of  prayer  has  been 
rather  ejaculatory  than  that  of  the 
synagogues. 

There  are  times  when  I  have  keenly 
felt  the  need  of  fellowship  in  prayer. 
These  have  been  special  occasions  of 
sorrow,  anxiety,  joy,  or  sympathy. 
But  though  I  have  always  felt  glad  of 
the  sense  of  self  discipline  that  attend- 
ing a  special  prayer  service  calls  for 
during  the  routine  of  life,  when  so  many 
other  demands  on  one's  time  exist,  yet 
I  may  as  well  own  that  the  best  means 
to  acquire  an  end  is  the  doing  all  I  can 
myself;  meanwhile,  I  am  not  unmind- 
ful of  my  Father's  interest  and  ability 
alone  to  give  me  success. 

Every  revelation  of  science  and  every 
mastery  of  nature  given  of  God  seems 
to  me  to  be  a  direct  call  to  man  to  do 
more  or,  if  you  like,  an  increased  privi- 
lege to  be  able  to  be  more  himself,  thus 
permitting  him  to  share  more  and 
more  the  attributes  of  his  Father.  Five 
[49] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

hundred  years  ago  he  just  had  to  leave 
to  God  the  safe-guarding  of  every  simple 
septic  wound  because  he  knew  not  how 
to  treat  it;  every  outbreak  of  epidemic 
scourges,  because  he  knew  not  how  to 
avert  it;  every  journey  by  land  and 
every  voyage  by  sea,  because  the  known 
methods  were  so  slow  and  so  dangerous. 

Here  lies  my  resentment  to  specious 
prayers,  or  thoughtless  prayers,  or  idle 
and  lazy  prayers,  that  almost  make  it 
a  virtue  to  despise  our  Father's  gener- 
ous sharing  of  his  powers  and  wisdom 
with  us,  neglecting  thus  his  best  means 
for  the  evolution  and  real  uplift  of  our- 
selves; and,  instead,  in  credulous  and 
often  conceited  and  self-satisfied  va- 
cuity, considering  ourselves  superior  for 
the  very  fact  that  we  neglect  our  own 
chances  and  capacities,  while  we  pre- 
tend to  be  more  loving  children  of  his. 

Mean  while,  we  lose  the  only  true  joys 
of  which  we  are  humanly  capable, 
namely,  the  joy  of  creating  things,  or 
doing  things  ourselves.  To  me  this  is 
the  one  foretaste  of  the  joy  of  heaven, 
a  sharing  of  the  real  joy  of  God  our 
Father,  the  great  Creator.  On  the 
[50] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

other  hand,  that  this  attitude  toward 
prayer  has  persisted  in  my  life  I  cannot 
entirely  attribute  to  environment,  for 
the  people  among  whom  I  live  have 
almost  exactly  the  opposite  tendency. 
Our  seamen  pray  aloud  as  a  rule,  not 
only  in  public,  but  in  private  also.  I 
have  been  lulled  to  sleep  many  a  time 
to  the  sound  of  a  comrade  pouring  out 
aloud  his  petition  to  God  as  he  knelt 
by  the  settle.  This  habit  makes  it 
easy  for  our  people  to  speak  naturally 
to  God  in  their  prayer  meetings,  where 
there  is  a  very  noticeable  and  char- 
acteristic absence  of  self-conscious- 
ness. 

From  the  German  Ocean  to  North 
Labrador  one  realizes  this  same  feature, 
how  naturally,  simply,  and  earnestly 
these  men  pray.  When  they  pray  at 
all  they  mean  every  word  of  it.  I  have 
known  more  than  one  man,  naturally 
antagonistic  to  all  emotional  or  de- 
monstrative forms  of  worship,  so  moved 
by  these  simple  men's  conversations 
with  a  very  obviously  personally  present 
God,  that  unbidden  tears  have  flowed 
over  unaccustomed  cheeks,  and  the 
[51] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

attitude   permanently   altered   towards 
the  meaning  of  prayer. 

DR.  WORCESTER  AND  His  GUIDE 

When  deeply  in  earnest  about  some 
part  of  their  own  daily  employment, 
it  is  a  sailor's  custom  to  emphasize  his 
diction  rather  by  the  loudness  of  his 
voice  than  by  the  multiplication  of 
words,  or  special  selection  of  language. 
This,  too,  is  very  noticeable  in  their 
prayers.  The  majority  of  praying  men 
get  louder  and  louder  as  they  proceed 
with  their  prayer,  and  eventually  shout 
at  the  very  top  of  their  voices,  so  that 
one  can  even  tell  before  entering  the 
meeting  where  the  crew  hail  from  by 
the  intensity  of  their  petitions.  Dr. 
Worcester  tells  of  a  very  characteristic 
instance  of  the  necessity  these  men  feel 
to  clothe  their  petitions  with  words. 
He  was  far  away  in  the  wilds  of  North 
Newfoundland,  alone  with  a  guide  who 
to  him  was  a  stranger.  It  suddenly 
occurred  to  Dr.  Worcester  that  the  man 
was  a  giant  in  strength  and  obviously 
poor  enough  in  circumstances  to  make 
the  acquisition  of  a  kit  like  his  own  very, 
[5*1 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

very  desirable.  After  lights  were  out 
and  darkness  reigned  complete,  Dr. 
Worcester  was  stunned  to  hear  some  one 
cautiously  moving  around  outside  his 
tent.  Crawling  to  the  entrance  and  rais- 
ing the  flap,  he  was  able  to  make  out 
the  figure  of  his  guide,  which,  as  he 
watched  him,  disappeared  behind  a 
bush.  To  his  no  small  alarm  he  soon 
heard  a  conversation  being  carried  on. 
There  could  be  no  one  in  these  woods 
but  some  companion  of  the  guide's. 
There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  Seizing 
his  revolver  he  crept  out  to  watch  what 
would  develop.  Almost  immediately 
the  figure  of  the  guide  loomed  into  view 
against  the  light  of  the  last  embers  of 
the  camp  fire.  He  was  kneeling  on  the 
ground,  his  hands  lifted  up  in  petition 
to  God,  to  whom  he  was  pouring  out  his 
soul  in  prayer,  exactly  as  if  carrying 
on  a  conversation  with  a  friend  along- 
side him. 

This  aspect  of  man's  side  of  prayer 
has  been  forever  endorsed  by  Jesus 
Christ's  own  attitude  to  prayer  on  the 
hills  of  Galilee  and  in  the  garden  of 
Gethsemane.  The  beauty  and  power 
f53] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

and  value  of  it  has  been  burnt  deep  into 
my  own  soul  by  twenty  years  of  life 
among  men  I  love,  to  whom  this  expres- 
sion of  prayer  appeals  most  and  yields 
the  largest  results.  Still,  I  can  only 
judge  of  my  own  mental  attitude  to 
prayer  by  the  way  I  find  myself  led  to 
act  concerning  it.  While  I  realize  more 
and  more  fully  as  the  years  go  by  the 
need  and  the  privilege  of  communion 
with  my  Father  in  Heaven,  I  still  am 
content  if  these  opportunities  for  special 
times  allotted  to  the  act  of  putting  my 
desires  into  words  are  not  as  frequent 
as  I  understand  many  fellow-workers 
for  the  Christ  consider  essential  for  their 
own  spiritual  life. 

DIFFERENCES  IN  TEMPERAMENT 

To  me  it  seems  God  will  lead  each  of 
his  children  in  this  matter  as  in  all 
others,  if  we  will  simply  put  it  in  his 
hands,  and  that  it  is  within  our  power 
to  do  very  great  harm,  and  discourage 
and  deter  others  not  similarly  consti- 
tuted, if  we  in  any  way  arrogate  to  our- 
selves the  position  of  judge  of  what 
they  ought  or  ought  not  to  do.  I  say 
[54] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

this  because,  before  I  was  a  Christian, 
I  dreaded  the  position  assumed  to  be 
the  only  possible  one  for  Christians, 
namely,  that  they  must  give  hours  and 
hours  not  to  prayer  but  to  "prayers" 
a  very  different  matter.  I  felt  I  never 
could  do  it.  And  the  infliction  of  that 
as  a  necessary  exercise  for  all  who  should 
dare  to  confess  themselves  followers 
of  Christ,  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  im- 
position of  a  burden  intolerable  to 
bear.  Ever  since,  during  the  special 
services  in  which  long  intervals  occur, 
as  in  our  own  communion  service,  I 
still  am  unable  to  occupy  the  long 
recurrent  periods  of  silent  prayer  as 
many  of  those  around  me  appear  to  be 
able  to  do. 

When  the  first  disciples  found  that 
the  philanthropic  tasks  incumbent  on 
Christ's  followers  occupied  so  much 
time  and  thought  that  there  was  a  real 
danger  of  there  being  no  one  at  all  to 
devote  his  time  specially  to  speaking 
to  God,  they  divided  the  Church  up 
into  two  classes.  One  should  under 
God  regard  it  as  their  main  task  to 
interpret  the  message  to  the  world  by 
[55] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

practical  acts  of  kindness;  the  other 
the  Apostles  dignified  for  all  time  by 
assuming  those  duties  themselves,  saying, 
"We  will  give  ourselves  to  prayer  and 
preaching,  while  you  look  after  tables." 
Some  Christians  I  think,  of  whom  I 
believe  I  am  one,  are  more  fitted  of  God, 
and  therefore  more  consciously  blessed, 
in  the  serving  of  tables  than  in  the 
devotional  exercises  in  which  others 
find  their  closest  walk  with  God. 

THE  GIST  OF  THE  MATTER 

To  sum  up:  The  privilege  of  prayer 
to  me  is  one  of  my  most  cherished 
possessions,  because  faith  and  experi- 
ence alike  convince  me  that  God  him- 
self sees  and  answers,  and  his  answers 
I  never  venture  to  criticize.  It  is  only 
my  part  to  ask.  It  is  entirely  his  to 
give  or  withhold,  as  he  knows  is  best. 
If  it  were  otherwise,  I  would  not  dare 
to  pray  at  all. 

In  the  quiet  of  home,  in  the  heat  of 
life  and  strife,  in  the  face  of  death,  the 
privilege  of  speech  with  God  is  inesti- 
mable. I  value  it  more  because  it  calls 
for  nothing  that  the  wayfaring  man, 
[56] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

though  a  fool,  cannot  give  —  that  is,  the 
simplest  expression  to  his  simplest  de- 
sire. When  I  can  neither  see,  nor  hear, 
nor  speak,  still  I  can  pray  so  that  God 
can  hear.  When  I  finally  pass  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  I 
expect  to  pass  through  it  in  conversa- 
tion with  him. 


[57] 


m 

WHAT    CHRISTIAN    FELLOWSHIP 

MEANS  TO  ME 


WHAT  CHRISTIAN  FELLOWSHIP 
MEANS  TO  ME 


(WRITTEN  AT  SEA) 

V^IDDLY  enough,  as  I  take  my  pen 
to  write  "What  Christian  Fellowship 
Means  to  Me,"  my  vessel  is  passing  a 
small  island  lying  far  off  shore  in  the 
Atlantic.  It  is  early  January,  and  the 
bare  low  rocks  are  coated  with  white 
like  a  sugared  cake.  Wherever  the 
heavy  breakers  have  been  rushing  over 
the  cliff-faces  immense  masses  of  most 
exquisitely  shining  ice-crystals  cling  in 
fantastic  festoons.  On  this  island  is 
one  solitary  house,  from  which  a  large 
blue  flag  is  fluttering  on  a  long  stick, 
giving  us  a  dumb  greeting  as  we  pass. 
For  we  are  the  only  neighbors  this  soli- 
tary family  will  see  for  many  days  and 
even  weeks,  and  we  are  but  as  a  ship 
passing  in  the  night. 

Formerly  quite  a  number  of  houses 
were   on   the   island,   the   nearness   to 
[61] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

the  fishery  ground,  the  fact  that  the  seal 
herds  skirted  the  island,  and  the  love 
of  the  innumerable  sea  birds  for  its  well- 
weeded  ledges,  having  attracted  men  to 
live  there.  But  the  loneliness  of  the 
long  winters,  when  the  island  is  for 
months  shut  off  from  the  land,  spurred 
them  to  tear  down  their  homes  and  like 
snails  carry  them  on  their  backs  to  the 
nearest  part  of  the  mainland  that  offered 
a  harbor  for  their  craft. 

MY  HERMIT  FRIEND 

My  friend  who  still  clings  to  the  soli- 
tude of  his  island  has  had  to  see  his 
young  folks  also  leave  him.  Yet  if  you 
could  land  and  spend  an  hour  with  the 
old  couple,  you  would  find  a  happy  and 
most  hospitable  home,  and  you  could 
only  arrive  at  the  conclusion,  if  you  were 
tempted  to  moralize,  that  the  fellow- 
ship of  one's  kind  is  not  in  every  case 
essential. 

In  forming  an  estimate  of  the  value 
of  friendship  from  our  own  experience 
we  are  apt  to  forget  that  this  idiosyn- 
crasy is  a  fact,  and  if  so  we  may  be  led 
into  judging  unjustly.  There,  however, 
[62] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

you  would  have  to  stop.  For  so  long 
as  we  human  beings  are  limited  by  our 
many  finalities,  it  is  undeniable  that  the 
association  with  our  fellows  is  desirable. 
So  far  as  work  goes,  I  know  of  no 
man  who  with  his  own  hand  has  killed 
more  codfish,  seals,  and  birds  than  my 
hermit  friend  of  the  island.  He  has 
thus  been  able  to  rear  a  fine  family. 
He  has  never  known  what  it  was  to 
want  any  of  the  necessities  of  life.  He 
has  been  always  able  to  meet  his  bills, 
and  to  afford  hospitality  to  all  strangers. 
His  animal  life  has  been  a  success  in  his 
small  sphere.  Knowing,  however,  his 
great  capacities,  one  has  a  feeling  that 
had  he  been  associated  with  other  men 
he  could  have  done  better,  even  in  the 
tasks  to  which  he  devoted  his  time,  and 
that  he  might  have  had  a  more  abundant 
life.  He  certainly  could  have  led  other 
men,  and  the  capacity  of  a  life  in  things 
physical  is  increased  directly  in  propor- 
tion to  the  exercise  of  this  faculty. 
Whether  mere  increased  material  accu- 
mulation would  have  really  added  to 
his  life  value  is,  however,  an  open  ques- 
tion. He  certainly  is  not  of  a  creative 
[63] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

nature,  and  except  that  he  could  have 
imparted  more  to  his  employees  or 
associates  of  what  he  had  himself  been 
taught,  humanity  as  a  whole  would 
probably  have  gained  or  lost  little.  But 
a  multiplication  of  these  "littles"  makes 
much,  and  so  I  look  at  the  solitary 
house  on  the  island  with  a  tinge  of  sor- 
row, seeing  that  it  typifies,  alas,  the 
attitude  of  many  towards  the  higher 
responsibilities  of  life. 

MY  GENTLEMAN  FRIEND 

It  is  more  or  less  easy  to  understand 
the  solitary  alcoholic  drinker,  as  he  has 
a  secret  he  desires  to  hide.  But  among 
my  acquaintances  is  one,  a  scholarly 
and  distinguished  gentleman  of  ease. 
He  is  married  and  has  a  charming  wife 
and  children,  grown  beyond  the  age 
when  it  might  be  natural  to  seek  tem- 
porary respite  from  their  company. 
Yet  he  prefers  to  take  his  pleasures 
alone,  his  "best  vacations"  being  when 
he  goes  off  into  the  wilds  entirely  by 
himself.  Alone,  near  nature,  is  his 
ideal  of  pleasure.  Another  friend,  pos- 
sessed of  a  yacht,  horses,  automobiles, 
[64] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

every  pleasure-giving  possibility,  prac- 
tically takes  all  his  recreations  alone. 
In  these  cases,  while  one  again  recog- 
nizes the  idiosyncrasy  as  a  fact,  the  only 
difference  seems  that  there  is  an  uncon- 
sciousness of  anything  that  should  be 
hid.  For  real  human  pleasure,  so  far 
as  it  is  more  than  animal,  must  reach 
its  climax  only  in  the  contribution  it 
makes  to  the  happiness  of  others.  The 
solitary  drinker  damns  his  body.  It 
seems  to  me  the  other  no  less  does 
despite  to  his  soul.  In  pleasure  as  well 
as  in  work,  our  best  can  only  be  obtained 
through  fellowship. 

THE  COMRADESHIP  OF  HUMBLE  PEOPLE 

The  people  among  whom  my  lot  has 
been  cast  are  poor  and  isolated.  Their 
life  is  largely  physical  and  their  oppor- 
tunities for  association  few.  They  are 
not  blessed  with  the  gift  of  thoughts 
and  conversation  arising  from  contact 
with  other  men's  minds  through  books. 
They  live  so  near  to  the  necessity-line 
that  they  have  really  not  been  able  to 
acquire  the  habit  of  inviting  people  to 
meet  them  socially  at  great  dinners  and 
[65] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

suppers.  In  the  company  of  those  from 
wealthier  social  circles  they  are  very 
apt  to  appear  a  silent  people.  In  spite 
of  this,  it  is  a  fact  that  where  possessions 
are  few,  fellowship  is  more  spontaneous 
and  more  universal,  and  this  the  habits 
of  our  people  exemplify.  For  though 
the  conversation  may  not  be  pregnant 
with  new  truths  and  terse  with  epigram, 
it  is  free,  hearty,  and  for  absence  from 
unkindnesses  it  also  compares  well  with 
much  one  hears  in  drawing-rooms; 
while  the  hospitality,  if  unpremeditated, 
is  less  discriminating  and  always  sincere. 
I  have  myself  arrived  in  the  middle 
of  a  winter  night  with  a  hungry  team 
of  dogs  at  the  tiny  cottage  of  a  stranger, 
who  was  in  bed  with  his  wife.  Yet  his 
greeting  was  more  than  genial.  While 
he  fed  our  dogs  in  the  dark  on  the  snow, 
his  good  wife  fed  us.  And  when  it  was 
time  to  retire  to  rest,  the  bed  they  them- 
selves commenced  the  night  in  had  been 
refurnished  for  us,  while  they,  for  the 
lack  of  a  second,  slept  on  the  floor  of 
the  loft.  There  is  not  only  this  super- 
abundant bonhomie  among  our  poor 
people,  which  ever  makes  their  water 
[66] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

wine,  but  the  same  fellowship  in  service 
is  a  more  than  beautiful  characteristic. 
Thus  Jim's  house  wants  moving,  so  all 
hands  are  "invited"  next  Wednesday 
to  do  it.  They  come  and  do  it.  Jack's 
schooner  wants  hauling  up,  and  every 
man  in  the  harbor  will  be  on  time  quite 
freely  to  lend  a  hand.  My  two  motor 
boats  want  dragging  half  a  mile  over 
the  harbor  ice  for  launching.  At  the 
hour  named  every  man  and  boy  in  the 
harbor  are  handy  at  the  time,  and  most 
of  the  women  as  well. 

Here  no  one  would  dream  of  asking 
a  doctor  to  pay  for  being  carried  to  a 
sick  man,  or  a  parson  on  his  rounds. 
When  on  one  occasion  my  feet  had  been 
incapacitated  by  frost-burn  and  some 
of  my  dogs  lost,  every  team  from  north 
and  south  went  at  their  own  invitation 
and  hauled  the  balance  of  my  logs  home 
for  me.  This  fellowship  of  love  is  an 
oil  for  the  wheels  of  life  that  we  are  apt 
to  find  short-stocked  in  more  highly 
civilized  centers.  But  it  is  a  jewel  that 
nothing  can  replace.  Possibly  the  sense 
of  a  need  of  help,  of  dependence  on 
something  beyond  ourselves,  emphasizes 
[67] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

this  trait  in  poorer  people  and  especially 
in  sailors.  And  so  it  proves  one  of 
God's  best  compensations,  this  spur  to 
fellowship. 

AN  EDUCATIVE  FORCE 

Fellowship  is  a  need  of  human  nature. 
Its  value  is  inestimable.  A  primal  lesson 
to  every  school  child  should  be  to  trust 
to  and  count  on  the  help  of  others,  and 
to  be  himself  loyal.  The  esprit  de  corps 
of  a  school  has  proved  a  lever  to  raise 
and  a  prop  to  support  many  a  weakling. 
The  pride  of  family,  the  camaraderie  of 
occupation,  the  responsibility  for  de- 
pendent ones,  quite  as  surely  as  the 
reliability  of  trusted  ones,  have  nerved 
cowards,  sustained  the  failing,  and 
crowned  victors  that  must  otherwise 
have  been  among  the  vanquished. 

Here,  too,  the  unselfishness  of  fellow- 
ship must  be  taught.  In  scholarship, 
as  in  games,  he  who  fights  solely  for  his 
own  hand  soon  becomes  isolated  from 
his  fellows,  and  is  despised  even  for  his 
very  powers.  Team  play  is  the  really 
valuable  lesson  that  compensates  for 
the  modern  game,  and  team  play  is  the 
[68] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

great  lesson  of  life  —  each  man  learning 
to  know,  and  to  act,  on  the  maxim 
that  no  one  liveth  to  himself.  A  good 
player  will,  as  I  have  seen  more  than 
one  do,  pass  the  ball  to  a  comrade,  who 
is  sure  to  score,  right  in  front  of  goal, 
when  it  meant  the  certain  loss  of  his 
chance  of  handing  his  own  name  down 
to  posterity  as  having  scored  the  win- 
ning point  himself.  His  share  in  the 
transaction  will  be  shortly  forgotten, 
possibly  will  never  really  be  recognized. 
But  honor  will  come  to  his  college,  his 
university,  his  alma  mater,  to  something 
bigger  and  more  enduring  than  his  own 
poor  life. 

"  One  more  charge  and  then  be  dumb, 

When  the  forts  of  folly  fall, 
May  the  victors  when  they  come 
Find  my  body  near  the  wall." 

Only  when  the  spirit  of  responsi- 
bility to  our  fellows  animates  us  can  we 
really  be  said  to  be  "playing  the  game." 
The  realization  of  the  value  of  fellow- 
ship seems  to  come  very  near  revealing 
to  us  the  message  Christ  came  to  teach 
—  God's  Fatherhood,  our  Brotherhood. 
I  once  saw  the  guests  collecting  for  the 
annual  gathering  of  the  "  Light  Brigade  " 
[69] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

that  rode  hand  in  hand  to  almost  cer- 
tain death  at  Balaclava.  To  some  it 
was  a  pathetic  sight,  the  gray  heads  and 
the  bent  forms  of  the  few  survivors. 
To  me  it  was  a  wondrous,  lovely  sight, 
this  enduring  sense  of  fellowship,  born 
of  a  common  act  of  heroism  and  devo- 
tion. What  will  not  a  man  do  for  an 
old  chum?  What  pleasures  do  not  the 
foregathering  of  old  friends  forebode? 
It  seems  to  show  how  divine  a  thing 
this  consciousness  of  brotherhood  is; 
surely  it  is  prophetic  of  the  more  lasting 
fellowship  that  we  look  for  at  the  gates 
of  life  eternal. 

So  in  our  spiritual  lives,  which  to  be 
spiritual  and  live  at  all  must  of  their 
very  nature  be  separated  by  indelible 
distinctions  from  what  is  carnal  and 
dead,  the  need  for  fellowship  reigns 
supreme. 


time  heard  a  speaker  call  for  those  who 
were  not  ashamed  to  be  called  followers 
of  Christ  to  stand  up,  I  sat  glued  to  my 
seat.  I  had  made  but  recently  the 
[70] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

great  decision  of  my  life,  that  I  would 
accept  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  would 
try  to  follow  it  to  its  ultimate  issue. 
I  would  have  stood  up  gladly  to  make 
one  for  a  forlorn  hope.  Lieutenant  Hob- 
son's  willingness  to  blow  himself  up 
for  his  country  at  the  entrance  of  San- 
tiago harbor  never  seemed  anything 
unusual  to  me.  General  Gordon's  readi- 
ness to  go  and  die  if  necessary  for  the 
Soudan  seemed  to  me  to  be  simply  the 
climax  of  opportunity  of  a  soldier's  life. 
But  in  the  presence  of  my  college 
comrades  to  stand  up  and  say  I  was 
willing  to  follow  Christ,  knowing  how 
vague  was  my  vision  of  what  that  could 
involve,  was  more  than  I  could  do. 
Suddenly  from  a  long  row  of  sailor  boys, 
all  dressed  alike  in  the  uniform  of  the 
naval  training  ship,  one  boy  stood  up. 
The  fellowship  of  pluck,  of  what  seemed 
to  me  real  courage,  was  exactly  what  I 
needed.  My  chains  were  broken  and  I 
got  up,  a  step  I  never  can  be  sufficiently 
grateful  for,  no,  not  to  my  dying  day. 
I  never  knew  more  of  the  boy  himself. 
I  don't  consider  that  sentimental  fellow- 
ship is  an  essential.  We  neither  spoke, 
[71] 


A    MAN'S   HELPERS 

nor  shook  hands,  nor  wept  on  one  an- 
other's necks.  We  just  passed  in  the 
night.  But  the  fellowship  of  the  boy's 
courage  had  meant  everything  to  me. 

We  had  been  playing  a  big  foreign 
football  match  on  one  occasion  a  year 
or  so  later.  In  those  days  dressing 
accommodation  for  players  was  chiefly 
remarkable  for  its  puritan  simplicity. 
The  victorious  team  was  scrubbing 
itself  and  changing  its  flannels  in  the 
spacious  dancing  hall  of  a  not  alto- 
gether too  irreproachable  saloon.  An 
uproarious  gang  of  the  sporty  fraternity 
had  crowded  the  available  space  that 
they  might  be  seen  with  the  heroes. 
Their  habits  of  imbibing  alcohol,  of 
fouling  the  atmosphere  with  bad  smoke, 
low  conversation  and  songs,  being  the 
custom  of  the  time,  passed  quite  un- 
noticed. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  hush.  Our 
captain  was  standing  on  a  table  with 
nothing  but  his  knickers  on,  his  physique 
itself  a  sermon  to  the  animated  clothes 
pegs  that  filled  the  room.  "Gentlemen, 
the  person  on  the  stand  here,"  he  said 
quite  quietly,  "has  commenced  a  parody 
[72] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

on  the  Bible  which  is  exceedingly  dis- 
tasteful to  me.  If  he  would  kindly 
defer  it  till  decency  no  longer  compels 
my  presence  to  interfere  with  your 
pleasure,  I  should  be  greatly  obliged 
to  you  all."  There  was  a  dead  hush. 
The  "person"  collapsed,  and  some  one 
starting  a  popular  song,  his  discom- 
fiture found  no  sympathy  even  from 
his  friends.  There  were  in  our  team 
several  somewhat  feeble-kneed  Chris- 
tians, really  good  fellows,  but  fearing 
to  set  themselves  up  as  better  than 
others.  Years  after  the  incident  one 
of  these  men  told  me  that  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  fellowship  proclaimed  by 
this  simple  protest  had  meant  more 
to  him  than  any  amount  of  sermons. 

A  BROAD  AND  DEEP  REALITY 

This  spiritual  fellowship  is  not  kindled 
by  peculiarity  of  garment,  by  mere 
conformity  to  customs,  by  orthodoxy 
of,  or  even  our  "doxy"  of,  intellectual 
tenets.  It  is  far  deeper  than  man  can 
appreciate.  It  transcends  all  grades 
and  ranks  of  mind,  body,  and  estate, 
so  that  for  myself  I  have  realized  more 
[73] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

fully  and  sweetly  the  meaning  of  it 
away  among  blue-jersied  fishermen  on 
a  schooner's  deck,  or  gathered  with 
them  under  the  shadow  of  our  mighty 
cliffs  in  Labrador,  than  I  have  amidst 
the  most  ornate  surroundings  of  the 
most  regardless-of-expense  cathedral  at 
the  feet  of  the  most  irreproachable 
theology. 

It  may  be  we  show  our  love  to  the 
Christ  but  feebly.  It  may  be  with 
weakness  of  will  we  follow  him  afar. 
It  may  be  that  beset  with  intellectual 
difficulties  our  vision  of  his  personality 
is  at  times  but  faint,  but  the  fellowship 
of  those  who  do  not  forget  him  is  a  force- 
ful fact  that  brings  somehow  an  inspira- 
tion of  the  reality  of  the  living  Christ 
with  surprising  clearness,  and  with 
unconscious  effort,  when  those  who 
acknowledge  him  meet  together  and 
speak  of  him  and  his  kingdom.  Is 
this  not  the  real  meaning  of  the  Com- 
munion sacrament,  that  meeting  thus 
in  fellowship  in  his  name  we  meet  him? 

I  never  forget  an  experience  soon  after 
I  entered  Oxford.  I  was  sitting  in  the 
rooms  of  the  Dean  of  a  certain  college, 
[74] 


a  clergyman  whom  I  had  often  seen 
conducting  chapel  service.  In  a  lull  in 
the  conversation  an  opportunity  came 
to  speak  about  witnessing  for  Christ  in 
the  college.  His  reply  was,  "We  don't 
talk  of  those  extremely  personal  things." 
Not  as  if  an  historical  Christ  was  taboo, 
but  as  if  all  familiarity  with  a  living 
Christ  in  the  world  to-day  was  so  most 
distinctly.  The  absence  of  fellowship 
evidenced  by  his  attitude  discounted 
ever  afterwards  the  help  he  tried  to 
give  me. 

THE  RICHEST  FELLOWSHIP  OF  ALL 

Personally  I  have  no  more  use  for  a 
dead  Christ  than  I  have  for  a  molten 
image.  The  Christ  who  once  did  loving 
deeds  and  does  them  no  more,  who  once 
spoke  words  of  comfort  but  has  been 
silent  for  centuries,  means  nothing  to 
me.  A  Christ  who  could  heal  the 
sorrows  of  body  and  souls  once,  but 
whose  power  has  perished  thousands  of 
years  ago,  is  no  Christ  for  me.  It  is  the 
Christ  whose  fellowship  I  can  share, 
and  whose  presence  I  can  realize  in 
the  fellowship  of  those  who  love  him, 
[75] 


A   MAN'S   HELPERS 

that  I  want,  the  Christ  who  in  danger 
says  now  as  once  he  said,  "Fear  not,  I  am 
with  thee,"  a  Christ  of  whom  we  can 
still  say,  "There  stood  by  me  this  night 
one  whose  I  am,  and  whom  I  serve,"  a 
Christ  who,  when  we  have  done  our 
best  and  all  that  remains  is  the  con- 
sciousness of  our  own  impotence,  we 
realize  is  near  us;  that  is  the  Christ  I 
want,  and  that  is  the  Christ  my  faith 
to-day  acclaims.  The  "seeing  him  who 
is  invisible"  is  the  awakening  of  our 
soul,  the  energizing  of  our  efforts,  the 
sustaining  of  our  courage,  and  that  shall 
one  day  be  the  thousandfold  reward 
of  our  poor  service.  When  we  see  him 
as  he  is,  and  in  complete  fellowship 
shall  be  made  in  his  likeness. 


[76] 


9      1934 

•<R      V 


Form  L-9-35j/i  s.  L' 


L 


BARCODE  NUMBER 


UNIVERSITY  of 
AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
LIBRARY 


